


Art is fundamental

by justlittleoldunkillableme (AmbecaWatson)



Series: An unusual Self-Portrait [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Artist Castiel, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, M/M, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Size Difference, but really Destiel, nude art, semi public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbecaWatson/pseuds/justlittleoldunkillableme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boring vernissage turns into something entirely different when Dean discovers one particular painting alongside it's artist.</p><p>A visual is <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4476209/chapters/10189610">here</a> (NSFW images)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art is fundamental

Dean sighed. This for sure was gonna be a boring as fuck evening. He had some boring girl on his arm, a price girlfriend one of his business partners had set him up with, Lisa whatever. In retrospect, after the end of his evening and the things that were to follow after, he didn’t even remember her full name anymore when he didn't think about it very hard. Which he tried to avoid.

He’d been bringing Lisa to get ups like this for some months now and sometimes even let her stay the night at his place when he’d really needed a fuck, but he didn’t consider himself as being in a relationship with her even though the press was already arguing if the junior partner of Singer-Winchester Auto Design wasn’t on the way to being off the market. But that wouldn’t happen, not with this girl.

He had moved through the crowd in the art gallery, thoroughly bored, Lisa gushing good-naturedly at people she had met at boring dinner parties, while Dean looked at the exhibits. He didn’t see any real talent in any of the objects or paintings he saw, until he came to the one that was labelled: Self-Portrait by Castiel Novak.

Dean was fascinated. The picture itself wasn’t a classical portrait, not by far. It was an oil painting, of a pretty lean, young man who was unashamedly stroking his fully erect, leaking cock with glassy eyes as if he was about to come all over the viewer in a single moment.

Dean was fascinated and to be completely honest, hard as a rock inside his pants.

Lisa looked over his shoulder as if to check what fascinated him so much, but pulled back with a grossed out look and uttered an: “Ew, how vulgar,” at the painting.

Dean sighed at her idiocy and was just about to go and check with the art dealer how much he would have to pay for this beauty to be his, and possibly to be the object of his masturbation fantasies until he got so old he couldn't get his cock up anymore, when he came face to face with the artist himself.

It really had been a self-portrait, he realised, although Castiel Novak was quite decently clothed in person.

“Hi there,” he beamed, and wondered how he had the nerve to be cocky while he knew that the guy could see his raging boner standing out visibly inside his slacks; something about the other man just seemed to draw him in.

“Hello,” the young man replied with a slight smile, seemingly unashamed of the fact that Dean had looked at his private parts on canvas not a second earlier.

“You’re the artist?”

“Obviously.” This boy had a gravely voice on him that made Dean’s leaking cock twitch with even more interest.

He cleared his throat, shifted almost unnoticeably, but Castiel’s gaze was now glued to his cock, and when he looked up again, his blue eyes had gotten considerably darker from arousal. Dean found the words he wanted to say: “Um, do you happen to know where I could find the art dealer, so I can buy this beauty?”

Castiel practically beamed at him. He was a little shorter than him and when he found his eyes, Dean noticed how his neck craned a bit, immediately bringing him out in sweat. Holy hell, he had a serious case of the hots for this boy.

“Yes, over there at the desk. Do you really wish to purchase my painting?”

“Holy hell, yeah?” Dean said, intoning a mock rhetoric question.

He walked over to the desk, slowly, his neck prickling, and being careful not to have his cock visibly bouncing inside his pants. After a few minutes talk with the art dealer, a distant acquaintance of his from his days back at college, named Balthazar, he had bought the painting, to be delivered once the exhibition was over.

He went back to his possession, still carefully avoiding his hard member moving involuntarily, and noticed that Castiel was still standing there, the prickling of his neck accounting to the fact that he had watched him all the way to the desk and back.

Castiel gave him a grin again, once he was close enough. “Did you really buy it?”

“Sure I did.” Dean asked himself if he really sounded as immature as his uncontrollable erection and his brash voice made him feel. 

“And where are you gonna put it?”

“I was thinking I might put it up on the ceiling over my bed." Such a sexually charged thing to say, really what was he thinking? The point was: He wasn't thinking. He was _feeling_.

Holy shit, he was definitely flirting with the boy, but Dean didn’t think anyone could seriously blame him for it. He was about to do something really stupid, like ask the kid if he would go somewhere with him right the fuck now, because Castiel seemed more than eager, if Dean should judge how his eyes where still wide and dark and he wetted his plush lips so that they looked flushed, just like on the painting when he had been about to shoot his load, when Lisa came up behind Dean and said: “You didn’t really buy this pornographic garbage, did you?”

Dean had never before realised how annoying her voice was.

“Yes, I did in fact buy it and I think it’s goddamn awesome!”

“Dean, watch your language,” Lisa whispered and then turned to continue talking to someone he knew he should recognise from somewhere, but didn’t.

Even a conversation as short as this with her had annoyed him so much that he was super angry but when he looked at the artist again, he had almost forgotten that Lisa even existed. Instead he asked a question about which his lust filled befuddled brain had just had the chance to wonder about.

“I…uh… how did you manage to capture this exact moment?”

“Do you want me to explain my process of crafting art?”

No, Dean wanted to artfully fuck the kid until they were both drenched in sweat and panting, but that was beside the point.

“Yeah, I’d like to know how you gotten it so lifelike.”

“Well, a good part of it comes from studying human anatomy, to get all the proportions right, but for this particular painting, I set up a camera and experimented with a few photos before I picked one motif that would be interesting to paint.”

Ok, wow. Dean thought his dick had gotten a whiplash, because did that young man just seriously say that he photographed himself jerking off? And what’s more _stark naked,_ to paint this?

Dean rather thought that he did, and it was fucking hot as hell. Imagining that kid stroking himself, with a camera in hand, clicking photo after photo of him sliding his cock through his fist was the hottest fantasy Dean had ever had. Goddamn, if he didn’t get out of here soon, he was gonna jizz his pants for sure.

But he had one last question: “And uh…do you take these pictures by yourself or do you … like have someone to help you?”

“At the moment, I have been doing this by myself, but if this line of art does crystallise itself out as being my thing, I might also need a bit more of assistance. Why are you asking? Would you be willing to hold my automatic releaser?” He gave Dean a saucy smile.

Dean gulped. He’d only need to extend his hand, and this boy would be more than willing to fulfill his every fantasy, but he couldn't. Could he? The boy was a first semester in college, like the leaflet of the exhibition had told him, and he really shouldn't be panting after him.

But, he wanted to. So fucking badly. And anyway, if they both wanted it, consenting adults… all that…

Lisa again butted in before Dean could make up his mind, whether or not to take the gorgeous boy home. “Dean, darling? I think, I’ve done the duty round now. Can we go? I think this is rather boring.”

Dean didn’t look at her, he only grit his teeth. This was, like, so not boring at all, ok? He felt like a teenager who's parents wanted to take him away from a birthday party just when the fun started and at the same time wasn't even recognising himself in his need to be with the boy who frowned a little too at Lisa's interruption.

Getting rid of her ASAP was now first on his list of priorities. But he couldn't well break up with her in the middle of this art gallery, so he said: “Yeah, ok. I’m just gonna head to the bathroom. It was very nice to meet you, Castiel… um Mr. Novak... and I really look forward to seeing more of your work," his dick gave a painful twitch at being cruelly denied the person he wanted and Dean felt disappointment well up inside him which wasn't completely made up from sexual frustration. 

And with that he was off and he would have to use every method possible to get his dick to go down and not be disappointed by the lack of teenage ass he would be burying himself in tonight.

Thankfully, the toilet was completely empty and Dean stood at the sink shakingly, willing his dick to become flaccid again. Fat chance of that happening any time soon, he thought. So he turned the water to cold and held his hands under the tap for half a minute. Hazily be thought of cooling himself and he had already popped open his button and slid down his zipper when someone entered the bathroom.

Wow awkward, Dean thought, one cold hand on his cock the other fumbling on the fabric of his underwear, literally having been caught with his pants down, when he noticed who had come in.

“Hello again. I was just coming after you to let you know that there is no need to call me Mr. Novak. Castiel will more than suffice. But I should leave you to it, I can see you’re busy. Perhaps I can help with that?”

“I… uh…“ Dean’s mind was blank and he removed his hands from his crotch to save a little of what was left of his dignity. “I was just trying to cool… uh…”

Castiel cocked his brow and said suggestively: “I think there would be more pleasurable ways to take care of this.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s hands, and led him over to a toilet stall before Dean could say anything.

“I…um…Cas-” he rasped when Castiel slammed the door shut, but was cut off from finishing the boy's name when he next slammed their mouths together and heatedly pressed his smaller body to Dean’s fully grown frame. Was this really happening? Was this fantasy of his really coming true right the fuck now?

“Hmm,” Cas purred into Dean’s mouth. “I like that. Cas. That’s very good. And what shall I call you? Mr. Winchester?”

Dean felt like he was wasted. The boy, writhing against his exposed boxer briefs with his jeans, the rough fabric causing delicious friction against it and lazily tonguefucking his mouth, made him crazy with want, but he still managed to press out: “You know who I am?”

Between Cas’ tongue and mouth sucking in his own tongue, it more or less must have sounded like a muffled “Y noo hu I amm?” that he panted into the boy, who was driving him crazy as he pressed against him involuntarily, not getting enough of the teen's touch and his lips.

“Hmm hmm,” Cas rasped again and his hands started exploring Dean’s body, opening his shirt, button by button. He pulled off Dean’s mouth and smirked, his arms wandering deeper.

“Yes, I do. There is a photo of you as one of the sponsors of my university just inside the craft building. It’s just next to a bathroom. Oh, Mr. Winchester, all semester long I’ve been running into that bathroom and have been jerking myself because of your picture. Hmm, that felt so good.”

Dean gulped. “Don’t call me Mr. Winchester.” He had to stop this, the kids fingers were already playing with the waistband of his underwear, but he only gasped out: “I’m Dean.”

Cas’ grin had something predatory about it now as he simply said: “I know,” and pushed a more than willing Dean down on the toilet seat while he slipped off his boxer briefs.

Dean protested weakly. “Cas, we can’t do this. I’m old enough to be your father,” ok so maybe that was bit of a stretch, but the kid's fingers were in his underwear, for Christ's sake. He needed to stop this now, or he never would.

He really wasn’t in a good position to make any sort of case here, his red, painfully hard cock was totally exposed, Cas was going down on his knees while marvelling at it and to all the world it looked like nothing Dean could say would be able to stop this now and let's be honest: He really didn't want Cas to stop.

Cas purred again and Dean could distinctly feel the air move over his precome slick cock as he took it in his right hand.

Cas gave a moan that he must have picked up straight out of a porn movie because he went “Huuuh,” while stroking up and down Dean’s cock, looking up at him through batted lashes and then “Well, if that’s how you feel… Daddy… I might just have to suck you so good that you change your mind about that.”

And he looked into Dean’s eyes provocatively all the time his mouth slid down his cock.

Explosions of lusty pangs built in his dick and lower stomach as Cas sucked him down and went to town, bobbing his head, sucking the velvety smooth skin of his cock into his mouth, tonguing at the slit which had Dean’s hips jerking into the kid’s mouth and his hands bracing himself on the sides of the cubicle.

“Fuck, Cas. Your mouth,” was all he could get out and then Cas started talking again, jerking him with one hand.

“Am I good for you, Daddy?”

“Oh fuck yeah, baby. Doing so great for your Daddy, sucking my cock.”

“Am I so good for you that you won’t fuck that annoying woman out there? Is my mouth good enough for you?” Cas asked and then immediately started working Dean again, who panted out: “No. Ah, fuck…hmm. No, I’m not going to do that… but I’m gonna… ah… ah ah!” and with that he came, straight down the boys' throat.

Cas stroked out the aftershocks of Dean’s orgasm, and then grinned up at him again with cock-swollen lips, drool and come all over his face.

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for coming for me. Makes me proud.”

Dean was going… going… and gone.

This was all kinds of sinful and frankly the best sucking off he’d ever had and with that all his doubts went out the window.

“It was really good, baby.” He pulled Cas up to kiss him and tasted his own spunk on his lips, smacking their mouths together loudly for a couple of seconds. “What do you say Cas, hmm? Shall we take care of you now?” He already fumbled at Cas' cock now, desperate to get to see it, suck it, worship it.

But Cas shook his head. The moment of passion was over. “I gotta get back to the vernissage, and that woman will be wondering where you are.”

“Oh, fuck you’re right. I forgot where we are.”

“I take that as a compliment,” said Cas and climbed off Dean, who got up in turn and tucked himself back in, zipping his trousers and almost embarrassedly said: “I’m surprised we weren’t caught.”

He then caught Cas looking down his body intently, Dean wasn’t even sure he’d even heard him, but when Cas reverently cupped his now hidden and satiated cock, he purred into Dean’s neck: “Ah, but that just made it that much hotter,” and kissed Dean again while still fondling him. Fuck, the kisses of this boy were surely gonna ruin him for anyone else.

“How about we exchange numbers and I’ll let you know when I can give my baby boy a treat again, huh? There is so much I want to show you.” And with that he plunged even deeper into the hole he dug for himself.

“I’d like that.” Cas gave him a last peck, a tentative rub and another smirk before he let go of him. “I suggest you go first, otherwise your girlfriend might get suspicious as to why you were in the men’s toilet with the gross porny artist.”

“Don’t mind her, she is just…” Dean didn’t know what she was so he just finished with: “I dunno.”

They walked out of the cubicle, Dean went over to the door that would lead him back to the main showing room and Cas called after him: “I’m serious, Dean. Don’t fuck her. Think about me and how good it will be when you fuck me instead.”

Dean nodded back at Cas, gave him a lusty smirk and just managed to get a quick: “I won’t fuck her,” out before the bathroom door swung shut and he went back to drive Lisa home with lust burning in his veins and the number of the young artist figuratively burning a hole inside his pocket.


End file.
